


Snippets

by doodly_squat



Series: Where do I belong? [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 11:03:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15241971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doodly_squat/pseuds/doodly_squat
Summary: Short pieces of story that take a glimpse into moments of the guys lives along their journey. These will be tied to 'Introductions' and 'Mistakes Were Made,' but I'll try and make them easy to follow even if those stories weren't read. Warnings and rating may change over time with each new chapter, but that would be mainly for violence warning than anything else. I'll post pieces whenever I get the hankering to add a little something more, but I have no real timeline on how often or how many sections I might add. If anyone would like to make a request, I will try my best to fill it - though please note that these pieces, as part of the 'Where do I belong?' series, don't tend to head very deep in romantic waters.





	Snippets

_It’s been five days since Insomnia fell…_

Prompto blinked away tears before cautiously scanning the Haven. He’d been trying so hard not to let the others see him break down.

Ignis was cooking; his back to Prompto as he furiously chopped vegetables. There was no need to see the Advisor’s face to know that it held a deep scowl. His quick, sharp actions verified the man’s current mood – frustrated, angry and sullen.

Gladio was absent, off on a run. He wouldn’t return to camp until just before dusk. He’d be sporting a few new injuries, evidence he picked a fight or two with the local wildlife, but he would only shrug off any questions. He’d been distancing himself from the rest of the group lately, and though he tried not to be hurt by the withdrawal, Prompto couldn’t help himself. Old feelings of abandonment started festering in his gut.

_Nope…don’t go there. Everyone just needs to grieve in their own way, yeah? Gladio lost his dad. Ignis lost his Uncle and Noctis…_

He glanced over at the tent, knowing that Noct was hidden away inside, exhausted from fending off all the help and comfort that both Ignis and Prompto had been trying to bestow upon him. No matter how hard they tried though, Noctis would only resolutely request to be left alone. 

Ignis had failed, for the second day in a row, to coax the new King from his tent, and that fact was not sitting well with the Advisor – hence his overly aggressive vegetable chopping.

Still, Ignis had far more patience with Noctis than Gladio did. 

Gladio held his grumblings to a quiet boil at first, but each day Noctis remained inactive, the Shield became more vocal, more prodding. As King, Gladio argued, how could Noct justify sitting around and moping when so many still suffered? How could he do that to his people? How could he dishonor his father’s memory like that?

Inevitably, Ignis would chide Gladio, stating that it would do no good if they thrust so much upon Noctis at once that he crumbled. He had to be ready. He needed time to grieve. 

The conversations were becoming all too predictable and a little more heated each time. Prompto was afraid that, all too soon, they would erupt into something that couldn’t be undone. 

Prompto had tried, on several occasions, to lighten the mood, but it always ended in disaster. He’d heard serval ‘this isn’t the time for that,’ or ‘I’m not amused’ or ‘could you just not do that right now?’ 

He felt hollow and useless. He still tried to subtly claw the others out of their funks – offering to help with cooking, the dishes, hauling gear, going for morning jogs, or just taking a nap beside them, but it was starting to wear him thin. Nothing he did seemed to help. He couldn’t help.

_And…_

Prompto sighed and pulled out his phone. Normally, he would have looked through his photos, but, instead, he simply stared at the screen.

There wasn’t much battery life left and they probably wouldn’t be heading to a hotel any time soon. Now was the time to be frugal with his remaining power.

Reluctantly, he pocketed the device and prayed the battery would hold out.

The evening wore on just as Prompto had feared it would. Gladio arrived at the camp near dusk, quiet and limping but offering up no explanations as to how he was injured once again.

Dinner was a somber, silent affair. Noctis didn’t join them. He remained in the tent, and though Ignis brought him in a dish, Prompto already knew the young King would eat none of it. 

Prompto ate what he could of his own meal, forcing down each bite, wincing at the constant twist of discomfort in his stomach. He’d managed to clear half the plate before he had to stop. The food had been delicious. Even with their meager supplies, Ignis could craft wonders, but anxiety and grief had Prompto’s insides rebelling as of late. 

Ignis eyed the leftovers on the Prompto’s plate as the dishes were being cleaned, and the blond found himself averting his gaze, not wanting to meet that disapproving stare.

Gladio, having cleaned his own plate, slunk off to bed. He would undoubtedly be at the furthest end of the tent from Noct, and neither would acknowledge the other in the least. Heck, Noct probably wouldn’t even wake up. 

When the cleaning was done and the campfire had been stoked one last time, Prompto looked hopefully to Ignis. More than anything, the blond wanted to talk. The silence was almost painful.

But, Ignis only gave him a weary nod before heading into the tent. That was understandable though. Having kept himself busy each waking hour of the day, Ignis, as of late, had been collapsing into an exhausted sleep at night. 

Alone, Prompto plopped down onto one of their folding chairs and stared sadly into the fire. 

He, throughout his life, had been all too familiar with the sting of loneliness, but, for some reason, it had never hurt this badly. Mixed with his grief and anxiety, it felt so huge and pressing, and, more than anything, he needed comfort and friendship. It was so tantalizing close too, but everyone had pulled away from him. Here, amongst his best friends, he felt so absurdly alone.

Eventually, the chill of the night had him shivering. He glanced up, noting the strength of the light in the twinkling stars. Somehow hours must have slipped by as he sat there struggling with his inner turmoil.

“Guess I should go to bed too…” he muttered, glancing at the tent. 

Sleep wouldn’t come easy. First he’d have to wedge himself between Ignis and Noct, and then try and stay ramrod still while luring himself to sleep. He hated the feeling of bumping others in the night now. With tensions so high, they would instantly draw away, further fueling Prompto’s loneliness and self-loathing.

Repeatedly, Prompto tried to coax himself up from his chair, but his reluctance kept winning. Finally, he pulled out his phone and stared sadly at the screen for a few seconds before opening his voicemail. His fingers moved deftly, following the same pattern they had for the last five nights. 

He knew he shouldn’t. The battery was so low, and there was no reason to, but he just wanted so badly to hear it. His racing thoughts stilled as the voice from the message started. The message that he’d received the day before the fall of Insomnia. 

“ _Hey my baby boy, your father and I made it safely home from our research station near the Vesperpool. It was quite fascinating work, and I can’t wait to tell you all about it…whenever we get to see you next, that is…_ ”

Prompto let out a shuddered breath and felt the warm sting of tears streak down his cheeks as he listened, but he choked back his sobs, willing his sorrow into silence so he could hear the rest of the message.

“ _You know, we are really proud of you, Prompto, and not just because you became a Crownsguard. We are proud of the person you’ve become. You are so warm and friendly and loving. I don’t know what we did in this life to deserve you. Really, I don’t…okay, enough sappy mother stuff. We’ll be in Insomnia for the next couple of weeks, so, if you get a chance to visit, come and see us. I miss you, and I love you! Bye for now…stay safe._ ”

Even with the message over, Prompto continued to clutch the phone to his ear. 

“Mom…” the word was a gruff, broken whisper, and with it, through his tear blurred vision, Prompto was moving, dialing a familiar number.

There were no rings; the call went straight to voicemail, as it had for the last five days.

“ _Hello, this is Lillian Argentum. I can’t answer my phone at the moment, but if you leave a message at the tone, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks!_ ”

There were a few seconds of silence that left Prompto feeling strained and fidgety, and then the tone sounded.

“Mom? It’s me...” He paused, swallowing hard, trying to gain enough composure to continue. “I know I’ve already left like a billion messages, but…I dunno…I just thought…I know…I know you were in Insomnia when it fell…” He had to stop a moment as a new swell of grief flooded his senses, clouded his eyes with tears, tightened his chest and left him gasping. When he continued, his words were forced, sorrow-filled things. “I’m afraid…that you’re gone. I know…I know you would have called me already if you could.” Another sob tore through him. “Dad’s voicemail is already full, and yours will be soon too. Please, if you are alive and you hear this, call me…please? I can’t bear not knowing if you’re hurt, if you need me…I love you.” 

He hung up quickly, bleary gaze drawn to the screen. The little red bar in the corner indicated that there was only 3% battery left. The screen would switch to a dimmer power saving light soon and then, in another ten minutes or so, it would shut down. 

Reluctantly, Prompto powered it off, praying that there would be enough juice left to turn it back on in the morning and check his voicemails. 

Tears were freely streaming down his face as he pocketed his phone. There was no way he could sneak into the tent at the moment, not as the blubbering mess that he was.

“Prom?”

Startled, Prompto almost fell from his chair. Quickly, he twisted around to find Noctis standing just outside the tent, watching him. Eyes filled with sorrow and concern, Noct seemed like something more than the somnambulist he’d been for the last five days.

_How long has he been standing there? What did he hear?_

Prompto turned away from Noct and swiped the back of his hand across his face, trying his best to clean away the tears and snot.

“I just wasn’t tired yet,” the blond answered, his voice breaking ever so slightly, “I’ll go to bed soon. I promise…don’t worry about me. I’m fine…”

It all sounded pitiful, even to Prompto’s ear, but he didn’t know what else to say. How could he possibly settle his grief upon the others when they were already struggling so badly?

He waited then, sure that the new king would go into the tent, or maybe head off to pee before slinking back to the warmth of his blankets. Closing his eyes, Prompto focused on the crackle of the fire, controlling his breathing, and slowing the raging thrumming of his heartbeat.

There was a warm, unexpected pressure on his arm, and for as much as it should have surprised him, Prompto didn’t flinch away from the touch. 

He opened his eyes to find Noctis crouched in front of him. That etch of sullenness that had been a permante fixture as of late on Noct’s face was gone; it was replaced with soft hints of concern and regret.

They were both quiet for a few moments. Prompto found he could do nothing to halt the fresh batch of tears streaming down his face. He didn’t even bother to wipe them away. Noct had already seen them.

“You are not okay,” Noct said at last, his voice firm but warm, “and I should worry about you. That’s what friends do.”

Prompto shook his head. “No, man, you already have so much to deal with…you shouldn’t have to worry about…not about my stuff too…” The words were so hard to get out. He had to pause to drawn in shaky breaths. 

Suddenly, Prompto was enveloped in Noct’s arms. 

Holding his friend tightly, Noct murmured. “I’m sorry, Prom…I’m so sorry.”

At first, Prompto limply let the King hug him, and then he leaned into the warmth and cried. He wanted to tell Noct that he had nothing to be sorry for, but the words wouldn’t come. Only sorrow and grief were able to pour out of him, and he continued to lean into Noct’s embrace and sob. 

Prompto wasn’t sure how long he had remained like that, or when exactly Noctis had started weeping as well, but, eventually, he quieted and found that he was beyond exhausted. 

Finally pulling away, Noctis offered up a strained smile. “Let’s try and get some sleep, okay?”

Prompto nodded, not trusting his own voice, and he wearily followed Noct into the tent. His grief was no less than before, only dredged from its hiding, but, somehow, that alone released some of Prompto’s anxiety. As he lay down in the tent, he felt Noct’s back press up against his. The touch was a subtle thing, but it meant the world to the blond. 

Closing his eyes, he relaxed into his exhaustion, comforted with the warmth at this back, happy to know someone was there for him – that he wasn’t alone.


End file.
